More Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories - By Lisa Scott Page 0,2
books I’ve been reading said goals are important in the dating world. So, I set a goal to approach ten women. I have three more to go. Two, if I count you.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. More bad body language. “Please tell me the names of the books you’re reading.”
“Can’t say I’d recommend them. They’re not really helping.”
She set her hands on the counter and gave him a great big fake smile. “I don’t want to read them; I want to be sure any potential dates haven’t read them. I’ll put it on my screening survey.”
“Hey, good idea. You survey your dates?”
“You’ve inspired me to start.”
He sighed. “Sorry. I push too hard. My ex, Susan, always told me that.”
“Why does someone like you need to be trolling for dates?”
“Someone like me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You must know you’re attractive.”
He shrugged and prayed he wasn’t blushing. He was pretty sure guys shouldn’t be seen blushing. “I was always busy with my studies, you know, long nights at the lab. I’m a late bloomer. I don’t have experience being attractive. Susan was my one and only girlfriend since junior year in college. She didn’t exactly go on and on about my looks. Six years later, she dumps me for her professor and here I am. I thought she was the one. I just figured we’d be getting married. I never had to worry about women before.”
“Be glad she wasn’t the one. She sounds like a witch.”
“Yeah. But now I feel like a failure. I guess I’ve got something to prove to myself, so I’m trying to get out there.” He made quotation marks in the air.
The woman shook her head. “Air quotes aren’t your friend, my man.”
Damn, he was clueless. “Thanks for the tip. Clearly, I know nothing about dating. I figured if I could read enough relationship books, it’d be like taking a class. That, I know how to do.”
“So, you’re looking for pickup lessons.”
He chuckled. “I guess you could say so.”
“Like I said, I’ve watched three brothers date half the female population in the city. I could teach you a thing or two. For a fee, of course, to make up for all the sales commissions you’ve probably cost me by chasing my customers away today.”
“Of course. What are we talking?”
“My cat is due for her yearly checkup. Does a hundred sound good?”
“I’m still looking for work, but I could swing it. What are the parameters, here? Is there any guaranteed outcome?”
She tapped her finger on the glass counter. “If you don’t get a date in two weeks, I’ll go out on a practice date with you and tell you everything you’re doing wrong.”
“What if I’m doing everything right?”
“Then you won’t need a practice date, will you?”
“So when do we start?”
“Tomorrow. I’m Kyla Carter, by the way.”
He stuck out his hand. “Stone Kinney.”
“Meet me tomorrow night at eight at the Brownstone Bar.”
“It’s a date.”
“No, it’s not. It’s a class.”
***
Kyla wasn’t exactly regretting spending her day off teaching a sexy nerd how to land a date. She just wasn’t feeling as confident as she had the day before. Her brothers were all brawn and little brain. Well, the brain was probably there, they just chose not to use it very often. But male-female relations are the same, nerd or not, right? And if she could help her brother Nick land Jessie Lewis as his prom date, she should have no problems here. Plus, there was that New Year’s resolution to be more daring. This was kind of daring, right?
No, daring would be looking for your own date, said that nasally voice in her head which sounded a lot like her mother. Plus there was the whole issue of spending time with a PhD when she only had her GED. She had to get over dropping out of school some day, but that voice in her head kept her feeling bad about that, too. When her mother died, she hadn’t left her heirloom jewelry or keepsakes. No, her mother had left her with a nagging voice in her head and a guilty conscience about everything she did—or didn’t do—right. Oh, and a boatload of money Kyla refused to touch. Hopefully, her mom was rolling over in her coffin knowing her daughter was just a perfume counter salesgirl when she could be living off millions instead. Kyla wasn’t going to let her mother control her from the grave. Yet, the memory of her sharp words still rattled around in